


If you thought that was the end of it

by humane



Series: Frostiron crack [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian Marriage Is Greater Than Or Equal To Midgardian Marriage, Bad Innuendo, Condolences To Tony's Nerves, Crack, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Meeting Your In-laws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humane/pseuds/humane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you're wrong, Tony.</p><p>Tony prepares to visit Asgard. And then he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you thought that was the end of it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Another drabble, for the awesome goddamnhella and the equally awesome people who read and liked the prequel to this ficlet. Their kudos-es and comments resulted in this. Thank you for reading this, I hope you get a smile out of it.
> 
> Also, a lot of things may not make any sense if you haven't read the first ficlet of this series.

**D-2**

“Loki.”

“Yes?”

“Er, nothing unusual, I’m about to initiate another couple monumental breakthroughs in the history of engineering through this pet project of mine devoted entirely to academic purposes, and if you could maybe supply me with some concrete standards of Asgardian aesthetic preferences it would be stellar?”

Loki closes his book with a crisp snap.

“I believe Thor could be your reference. He possesses most of the traits his people find physically appealing.”

Tony’s brain cells start galloping around his brain as he analyzes.

“So blond, tall, big, bearded, insane muscular boobs?”

He can’t help it. His face falls a little. Loki, the bastard, grins his evil grin #5.

“Don’t worry, Tony, you’re comely as any maiden.”

Tony decides to ignore that.

“I could still work on the boobs. I could get surgery. Bigger boobs than Thor."

“That sounds disgusting.” is the reply. Tony kinda agrees. But then something crosses his mind.

“Wait.” He points at Loki. “No blond, no big, no bearded…” He glances down pointedly to emphasize his point. “…no boobs. Yes tall, but still. Oh sweet merciful jesus, are you _ugly_ in Asgard?”

It brings up only a light scowl on Loki, who is too used to Tony’s rudeness by now to be any fun to goad.

“Most find my face appealing.” He says defensively.

“You’re lucky to have me then. I like you for your body.”

“I know. The demonstrations were rather hard to miss.”

 

 

 

**D-1**

“Tony.”

“Yes?”

“There is… a thing, sitting at the center of my room.”

“Oh, that’s the project I mentioned yesterday. I’m experimenting on how it reacts to environmental hazards.”

“It’s sitting where I’m supposed to sit.”

“So? You could sit somewhere else.”

“It’s four feet wide.”

“And your room is about forty feet wide.”

“It has lengthy protruding appendages attached.”

“Who doesn’t? Though I admit, there’s usually only one.”

“Tony. If you are planning to wear that garish spiky _thing_ of a machine to Asgard I assure you it was a mistake to reveal its existence to me. I will dispose of it. I refuse to let my consort stand beside me looking like an inflated swellfish.”

“Shit, you don’t like it? I thought horns were fashionable. Why do you wear them if they’re not?”

“All the better to skewer you with, my dear.”

“Wow, you actually read that fairytale compilation document I sent you?”

“The things I do for love.”

 

 

 

**The Day**

 They leave without Thor, who insists on detouring to Australia to pick up Jane from an annual Astrophysics conference held there. Considering it took three days for Tony to prepare and pack and panic, it is rather anticlimactic that the entire glittery journey along the Bifrost takes about three minutes total. Tony hates anticlimactic. He also hates that he didn’t have the foresight to install air conditioning in his brand-new iron man suit, because apparently after traveling through god knows how many light years of 3 Kelvin space he’s sweating. Perhaps copiously.

 They arrive in a room, of sorts. There is a dark-skinned guy with honest-to-god glowing eyes possibly fixated to the platform, and some awe-inspiring Asgardian mechanics spread like decorations across the dome. After that there’s gold, more gold, marble, and marble some more. They’re about to pass through an enormous door that opens to the throne hall(fit to accommodate a giraffe sitting on a giraffe) when Loki halts and casts a brief glance in Tony’s direction. Time has arrived, then, for Tony Stark’s true magnificence to overwhelm the court of Asgard. He nods grimly, and presses on the upper inside of his glove.

  _Snip._ From the look on Loki’s face his cape (inspired by Thor, all rights reserved) has unfolded every bit as majestically as Tony intended. The wind supply system seems to be working brilliantly too, which he installed for extra billowiness because priorities, Tony never forgets the priorities of such matters. He also reminds himself to turn it off after his majestic walk up the path to the throne, otherwise he’ll face his in-laws with an unexplainable jet of wind issuing from somewhere around his butt region.

 “I’m set.” He announces, using his best testosterone-radiating solemn voice. He might have tweaked the mic a little for added resonation effects. Loki looks like he's the one who wants to backpedal now.

 When the door opens, there are only two people standing inside. Cross his earlier thoughts, Tony _loves_ anticlimactic. A woman and a man, waiting by the marble stairs that lead up to the throne. Father-in-law and mother-in-law, right to the gist it seems. Tony minds. He minds very much. He minds the general situation of having to meet his in-laws three days after the day he originally planned to propose on.

 "Loki. And Tony Stark, I presume? I am Frigga, and this one here is my husband Odin." The woman says gently.

 “Lady Frigga.” Loki greets quietly, snapping his fingers. A bouquet of exceptionally furry blue flowers pops into existence above his hand.

 “Elkflowers of Jotunheim. Lovely, Loki, thank you.”

 She beams and leans forward for a sniff. The furry petals shuffle shyly, then one of the buds unfurls and a shiny slimy pink tongue appears to lick at lady Frigga’s noble cheek. Tony goggles.

 Odin clears his throat. It takes Tony a few seconds to realize that he’s being looked at expectantly.

 “I didn’t bring any…eekflowers.” He starts. Now should be about the time for his awesome eyepatch gift to work its magic. He spent ten hours of scientific genius frenzy on that eyepatch, damn him if it can’t top a fistful of sexually molesting flowers. But it’s not complete yet, not really. He needs-

 “I need your eyeball.” He says, then promptly lets his wits disconnect from reality. Loki gives him a withering look.

 “Only, only temporarily!” He squeaks desperately.

 “I, I created a cover for your eye with this Midgardian metal that changes form to accommodate whatever shape it's made to remember, but for it to work properly you have to participate in a certain procedure first that involves a lot of unhealthy heating and cooling but I hear Asgardian people are durable so, so I hoped you'd like it? This awesome artifact of modern Midgardian technology-”

 Okay, awkward. He gropes at his own waist, searching for the sack he tied to his belt this morning after putting the finished present in it- the sack that he tied to his belt that he discarded while changing into his undersuit.

 “-is still on Earth. I’ll, uh, have it spacemailed immediately.”

 It seems this fateful meeting was destined to proceed through means of alternately goggling at each other. Let the world know that Tony hates everything about this. Himself mostly.

 Odin laughs.

 He laughs like a king and a mere father. He laughs in great guffaws, then squeaky giggles and heaving gasps. Tony doesn't know if being laughed at by someone two minutes after meeting him is a good sign, but it's better than being dragged away to be beheaded so he's not complaining.

 "Demanding, now, isn't he?" Odin says to Loki when his mirth subsides somewhat.

 “A greedy one, yes."

 "But entertaining to be with." Says Frigga, smiling.

 "You cannot imagine the migraines.”

 "I imagine you give back a few yourself. Does he not, Tony?"

 Her eyes sweep over Tony.

 "Oh, how inconsiderate of us, please make yourself comfortable. It wouldn’t do to have our son-in-law standing in the discomfort of full armor when there is no need.”

Which means: strip.

“Uh,” He says, because even for a genius like himself there is simply no way to say _No ma’am, that’ll leave me standing in my undersuit which is inappropriately tight in places that shouldn’t be tight in front of mother-in-laws_ without blowing the mood like a supernova.

“Mother, it requires certain… procedures for him to remove the armor that would better be left for private places.”

Tony could cry from relief. Frigga turns to Loki with a blinding smile, all thoughts of measly human son-in-law forgotten in the bliss of being addressed as such by her son.

“Of course, my darling son. I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience him so.”

She hooks her arm in Loki’s and smiles at Tony.

“Would you mind terribly if I borrowed Loki for a while? I’m sure you would like to have a moment alone with my husband to furtively discuss my son’s shortcomings and such, too.”

Her lips are still smiling; her eyes are a threat (there’s the family resemblance, though Tony knows they’re not really related by blood). Odin seems to notice as much, and with what looks like wisdom built from millennia of marriage continues to stand in sullen silence. Tony wants to cry, again, for the sheer awkwardness he knows is awaiting.

“If you’ll excuse us, then.” Loki says, seeming perfectly content to leave Tony to slow suffocation by awkwardization.

They stand there, Iron Man and Odin Allfather posed stiffly side-by-side as the friendly chatter of mother and son fades away among the pillars. Odin sighs.

“Well,” He says wearily. “I believe we should start planning, since Frigga saw fit to leave it to us.”

Tony blanches. He is rarely inaccurate when it comes to hunches, and right now he has an ill-boding hunch like a well-aimed punch to the screwed thing that is his life.

“Plan what?”

“A proper handfasting ceremony, of course, and the banquet after. It would be best if we started with  the thirteen basic rituals.” Odin turns to face him, jaw working like he’s about to speak through glued teeth.

“Son.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Later**

“This is my son.”

“Okay, um, hey, Loki’s son. You’ve got a nice horse. Very… leggy.”

“Tony, that one’s the servant.”

“Oh my god.”


End file.
